


Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Striking A Balance [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it really corruption if you <i>want</i> it to happen?</p><p>Incorporates <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/17669.html?thread=36640773#t36640773">an art prompt</a> and the following prompt: <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/17947.html?thread=40360475#t40360475%22%22">"I'm starting to feel a little... extra." "No, not extra. Essential."</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In For The Thrill

Ariadne had a rough time getting back to the real world after seeing what dream share could do. It was too fluid and malleable, without the rigmarole that real world construction could be. She attended her classes and put a smile on her face for Professor Miles' benefit, which eased his worry. He didn't ask for as many supervising sessions once she seemed to be settling back into reality. He could probably guess that the sheer creation of the dreaming was too much of a draw for her; she had never really enjoyed the necessity of taking classes on building codes and cost effectiveness. During her last work placement, she had been ignored and shunted aside if she wasn't being hit on, and she wasn't allowed to do very much to contribute. Ariadne had known that would happen on an entry level work placement, but it still stung.

Eames showed up unexpectedly one day at her apartment in Paris after she completed her thesis defense. He was dressed in comfortably casual clothes and was leaning against the door frame. "Hello, Ariadne," he said with an easy smile. "Let me in?"

"Should I wonder why you're here?" she asked instead, keys tucked safely between the fingers of her hand. She had been friendly enough with Eames during the Fischer job, but she didn't know him well and she was a tiny girl living alone in Paris. She wasn't stupid.

He caught sight of her hand and grinned at her. "Don't trust me, darling?"

"I don't know you well enough to trust you yet."

Eames nodded, conceding the point. "I swear on whatever is holy that I have no ill intentions toward you. I've come to discuss a job offer, if you'd care to try your hand again."

She probably should have told him no, and had him disappear back to wherever he came from. She probably should have asked him how he knew where she lived or when she would be done with her defense. She probably should have asked if Eames was even his real name.

But she was tired and reality just wasn't thrilling enough anymore.

"Come in," she said, shrugging. She unlocked her door and let him in. "I'll make tea and you can tell me all about it."

***

It was a simple one layer extraction job, no need for a physical model of the maze. Ariadne built the maze in one day and taught it to Eames in the next. She wasn't needed out in the field, which left her with a nice enough payout and little actual risk of harm. "You're talented," Eames told her, eyes blazing into hers. For a moment, Ariadne wondered what it would be like to fall under that stare, to feel those full lips against hers.

"Thank you," she managed to say, hoping he hadn't noticed the awkward flush on her cheeks.

But he was a forger. Of course he did, and his eyes twinkled. "Think you fancy a more permanent role in this line of work?"

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she nodded. "Yes, I would."

"I'll have Arthur give you a ring, then. I know the last architect he worked with was utter shit on the job."

"Why didn't he call me, then?" she asked, eyebrow raised. It stung, feeling almost like an insult.

Eames' hand reached across the space between them to settle on her arm. The touch felt electric, and she looked up at him with parted lips. "We'd agreed on the Fischer job that we would at least wait until you finished school. That way, you'd have options."

"Options," she echoed.

"This isn't the kind of life for everyone, you understand. Arthur is very good at what he does, and there was very little physical risk in getting his last job done."

"The risk was during the job itself."

"Yes. And you've proved you can think on your feet, and that you're flexible. Those are very important traits if you work in dreams, but it can also get you noticed by entirely unsavory characters," he said with a smile.

"Aren't _you_ an unsavory character?" she asked without thinking.

Eames' grin was brilliant. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, rather like Arthur had done on the second level of the Fischer job. Her cheeks flushed, and there was a slight curl in her lip, almost a smile. "Of course I am, darling. That's why I know how bad it can be."

Impulsively, Ariadne leaned forward and kissed him right back. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, opening her mouth beneath his. He deepened the kiss rapidly, and her heart pounded in her chest. Her entire body seemed to thrum with sudden tension, and the feel of his fingers ghosting over her back was enough to make her tremble.

When he pulled back, there was a knowing smile on his face. His eyes glittered with some kind of knowledge. "Arthur was right about you, Ariadne. I shouldn't be surprised, really. But I didn't think he had imagination enough for something like this."

"For something like what? He had enough imagination to make the kick work."

Eames laughed. "Oh, yes. I don't doubt he can get the job done. I've known our dear Arthur a very long time, after all. I know he'll always get the job done." He let his fingers drift across the line of Ariadne's jaw. "He's so very good at planning and getting the idea down to its fundamental parts. My job is seeing the potential in things and sifting through the emotions." His lips curled into a sensual smile as he looked at her. "Sometimes he surprises me, however."

"So how has he surprised you?" she asked, curious.

He brushed the ball of his thumb across her lower lip, making a spark of heat shoot straight between her thighs. "He was right about you. There's more than innocence here. There's potential, and just the right kind of it."

"You talk about me with Arthur?"

"I do more than just talk with Arthur," he said with that same slow smile. He kept rubbing at her lips, and unbidden she thought of the two of them kissing, mouths crashing together in a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. Eames merely grinned at the small desperate noise she made in her throat.

"What about me, then? What do you want?"

Eames leaned in for a kiss. "Depends on how far you want to take things, Ariadne," he murmured.

This kiss was a fight for control. It was the tangled kiss she had imagined he might have with Arthur, messy and hard and arousing at once. His hands roamed across her body, and she was pushing at his shirt, feeling the play of muscles beneath her fingertips. Ariadne twisted in his arms so that she was straddling his waist, her mouth pressed tight to his. Eames palmed a small breast, making her gasp. His tongue invaded her parted lips to stroke hers, and she took a fistful of his hair in one hand to keep him in place. The other was pressed against his back, not letting him move away. Her hips shifted restlessly over him, and she could feel his erection through the layers of their clothing.

Tension roiled inside her. Good girls didn't do this kind of thing, kissing and rubbing up against men they barely knew. Good girls didn't dive headlong into something "not exactly legal," and good girls didn't want to return there as soon as humanly possible.

He undid the button of her jeans and unzipped her fly. If she was going to keep things from going too far, she had to stop it now.

Fuck it. This was what it felt like to be _alive,_ not crushed and weighted beneath rules and regulations.

His fingers were thick and rough against her, and he chuckled when he found her already wet. "You are delightful," he said against her collarbone. They were in his hotel room; he was scheduled to leave to do the extraction the next day. "Ready to fall?"

Too late, she wanted to say, but she gasped as his fingers pushed up and into her, stretching her wide before curling into her. She made an incoherent sound of pleasure, fist in his hair tightening. "More," she said, pulling his shirt up and out of his trousers without ceremony.

"Demanding thing," Eames said with a delighted chuckle. He used the one hand to stroke her, the other to help pull at her clothes. They were tossed around behind her, and Ariadne mewled in protest when Eames had to withdraw his hand from between her trembling thighs. He licked his fingers slowly and sensually, making her gasp and reach for the buttons on his shirt. He laughed and kicked his clothes aside, then pushed back toward his bed.

Ariadne was spread wide beneath him, feeling almost self-conscious. She wasn't always so reckless, though sometimes she simply said things without thinking them through. This wasn't the kind of impression she had wanted to make. She didn't ask him why he had condoms in his suitcase, but was ridiculously glad he had them.

"Beautiful," Eames murmured, taking in the sight of her messy curls spread over his pillow, the languor in her limbs and the way she looked at him with desire. He joined her on the bed and kissed her hungrily as he pushed his way inside her. He made soft, pleased grunts as he moved above her, though Ariadne was the loud one. She moaned and writhed beneath him, clawing at his back as she came. Eames didn't last too much longer, and his weight was uncomfortable yet thrilling at once. The stretch in her thighs was too real to be a dream, and it had been far too long since she had been ridden this hard.

"Did you plan for this?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

Eames chuckled carelessly, his face tucked against her neck. "Hoped, more like it. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," she said, smiling.

"Good. Because _now_ I have plans for you."

The words in their possessive tone sent anticipatory thrills through her. Ariadne grinned and stroked the back of his head. "Looking forward to it."

***

At first, Ariadne thought Eames was all talk. A few weeks later, however, he escorted her to London to meet Arthur. "We're corrupting you, aren't we?" Arthur asked, a rueful smile tilting his lips sideways. His hair was slicked back, and the burgundy vest over his button down shirt was slightly askew. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, gaze intent on Ariadne's face. He looked just as he had during the planning stages of the Fischer job, and she vaguely wondered if he was working just then.

"Is it really corruption if you _want_ it to happen?" she countered carelessly. She leaned in closer, aware of Eames standing in the doorway, watching them. Risking a hand on Arthur's knee, she smiled at the way his eyes tracked her motion. "What do you want to happen?"

"Did you like the kiss we had?" he asked instead of answering her.

"No," Ariadne said, schooling her features impassive. There was the briefest flash of pain and doubt in Arthur's eyes before he looked away from her to Eames.

Where Eames put emotions on display to keep others back, Arthur let the cool facade do that. His emotions were simmering in his eyes, in the weight of his gaze over the curve of her cheeks and the part of her lips. Eames had sharp words and steely eyes, holding a semblance of himself at arm's length for others to view. Whatever was real was tucked tightly inside, hidden beneath a maze of masks and false tells. Arthur let the professionalism put others off, and he carefully cracked open the armor for the ones he deemed worthy.

"Not enough passion behind it. I think you can do better," Ariadne continued in those same careful tones.

His eyes snapped back at her, widening a little. "What?"

"All that research you do..." Ariadne let her amusement show, her lips starting to curl into that same smile she had after their kiss on the Fischer job. "Never kissed a girl like you meant it?"

Arthur grabbed her and pulled her against him. Their bodies collided as their mouths met, and Ariadne grasped his shoulders for balance. His frame was different from Eames', more wiry than broad. A runner's build, with taut muscle hidden beneath the button down shirts and vests. He had her weight balanced in his hands, his tongue licking at her lips and the insides of her mouth. Ariadne didn't even think of the fact that Eames was watching them, that she had slept with him not that long ago. Arthur was solid beneath her, and her body fit well against his. Fire was building inside of her, low down in her belly. She wanted to learn all the curves and arches and angles of his body, to learn how to build him from the ground up as if he was her thesis project.

"That's better," she gasped when their kiss broke. She was breathless, her heart pounding and her insides quaking with possibilities. She felt like molten gold in his hands, as if he could reshape her into something else, and she would happily comply if this moment could last forever.

"We were working then," he said, eyes crinkling in the corners. Dimples. He had never really let her see them before, even if there had been opportunities to laugh and joke or make sarcastic comments while doing prep work.

Ariadne had a hand on his chest. "And now?"

"How far are you willing to go?"

"As far as you are," she said boldly.

Arthur flicked his eyes up toward Eames in the doorway. "Go away."

Eames pouted playfully. "Won't you share with me, darling?" he drawled.

Heat flared inside of Ariadne, and the little noise in the back of her throat got Arthur looking at her speculatively. After a moment, he decisively shook his head. "No. Not this time."

He sashayed into the room at Arthur's declaration and pulled Ariadne back for a searing kiss. "I have things to do today anyway." He winked at Arthur's scowl. "Things, Arthur. Not people. There _is_ a difference and we were never exclusive."

"Go away, Mr. Eames," he said testily, making Eames laugh.

"You intend to share me, then?" Ariadne asked with a lofted eyebrow once Eames left Arthur's apartment. It was tidy but filled to the brim with books, movies, music and framed photos on the walls. Somehow it seemed to fit what she knew of Arthur, that he was able to make sense of completely random pieces of information and to create order out of chaos.

He gave her an arch look. "Are you opposed to the idea?"

"I'm not sure yet. I think I need a little convincing."

Arthur pulled her down to him and kissed her thoroughly, hands snaking up into her hair to keep her close. He was devouring her, burning her, narrowing her world to the press of his lips against hers. He layered kisses across her jawline, then down her neck. "What do you like?" he asked, closing his lips around her earlobe.

Ariadne shivered as his tongue traced lines and whorls across her skin. "Everything."

"Really?" he asked, pulling back to smile at her with a filthy grin. It was startling to see on his face, but apparently there were even more depths to him than she had been able to guess just by looking at him. "Do you even know what _everything_ entails?"

"Why don't you show me?" she asked boldly. "You were a great teacher for paradoxical architecture."

He ran his hands along her sides, nails scratching just hard enough that she could feel it through the fabric. "Well, then. We'll start with the basics, then introduce new things as we go along, hm?" He smiled, dimples showing, and pushed her shirt up. He ran his lips across the exposed skin, making her shiver.

Ariadne pulled her shirt off and tossed it aside, making him chuckle at her exuberance. "I may be a little impatient."

"May?" Arthur taunted.

When she was about to open her mouth to protest, he moved forward and simply took her clothed breast into his mouth, tonguing her through the plain white cotton of her bra. She should have possibly dressed up a bit more, wore matching underwear or gotten something lacy. But neither man seemed interested in those kinds of frilly things. They both appreciated her mind and her skills, and the rest of it seemed to be extra.

Ariadne threaded her fingers through the back of his hair, holding him against her chest. Her other hand was on his shoulder, sliding it beneath the edge of his sweater. "You need to take this off," she gasped.

"Oh?" Arthur asked, moving to mouth the valley between her breasts. She looked down at him, her fingernails scratching at his scalp lightly. The sight of his mouth hot and open over her skin made her insides melt. His tongue reached out to taste her skin, and she grasped his shoulder even harder. "Patience, Ariadne," he murmured, looking up at her through his eyelashes. "I promise, it'll be worth the wait. Eames didn't take time to savor you properly, did he?"

"He told you?" she gasped.

"Not in so many words," Arthur replied with a smile. He unhooked her bra and casually tossed it aside. "Did you think he came up with the idea on his own?"

Ariadne could only sputter. "Um..."

Arthur extended the tip of his tongue to a peaked nipple, making her gasp and twist between his hands. "Sh... It's all right." He closed his lips around her breast, pulling gently. The pleasure shot straight to her groin, and she could feel herself grow wet. "It's an on/off thing," he continued, breath hot over her skin. Arthur closed his lips over her breast again, trailing his fingers down her back. He looked up at her with a smile. "Jealous?"

"Is that what you want with me?" she asked, voice shaking. She wanted him badly, but the concept of being used when it was convenient sent chills through her.

"Hardly," he replied, leaning up to kiss her mouth again. Her balance shifted, and she crashed against him, feeling the wool of his sweater rub against her sensitive nipples. Ariadne made a soft whimpering noise deep in her throat. He turned her so that he hovered over her on the couch, eyes dancing with mischief and desire. "Eames can't stay still for very long. So sometimes we're in the same place long enough for something to happen. Sometimes we're not. I know where I stand with him, he knows where he stands with me. Neither of us would ever sell out the other."

"And with me?" she asked, seeing the dark cast to his eyes.

Arthur took off the sweater and started to unbutton his shirt. "You're a treasure, aren't you?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her chest. She trailed her fingers along his bared shoulders, gasping at the contact. "Everything is new and wonderful with you. I wondered what it would be like," he admitted, hands going down to her jeans. "To let it be more than work. To know more than what you let others see."

Ariadne helped shimmy out of her jeans and panties. Arthur's lips and tongue reached her belly button, and she propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. She was naked before him, sprawled out for him to admire. "Is that what the kiss was about?" she asked, looking at him.

Kneeling before her, he grinned. "It was worth a shot."

She laughed at his expression, at the silliness of it all. It made no sense to be awkward. This was _Arthur._ She trusted him implicitly, even if she probably shouldn't have. He was there when she first experienced the dreaming, had coached her through it and watched her fly through the creation of the mazes they needed.

It seemed natural spreading her legs wide for Arthur, to have him kiss his way down to the juncture of her thighs. There was a faint tremor as she sprawled across his couch; the last time she'd done this, her ex-boyfriend had been a jackass and blamed her when she couldn't come this way. Arthur moved slowly and methodically, running his tongue all across her exposed flesh. As she relaxed, he ran his hands along her thighs, pulling her legs over his shoulders. Ariadne trembled and gasped, watching his head bob and shift as he explored her with his lips and tongue. His tongue curled around her clit, making her moan. He looked up, and she could see his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiled against her center.

He plunged his tongue into her, lapping at her wetness before moving to gently suck on her clit. Ariadne was hovering on the edge of orgasm, biting her lip to keep from being too loud. All she could hear was her own harsh breathing and the muffled sounds of her fingers skidding over the couch as she clutched it. She whimpered softly as he slid his fingers into her, curling them as he sucked on her clit. "Arthur," she moaned, head falling back as she shook.

Arthur pumped his fingers faster, making her cry out louder. She tightened, feeling her entire world condense to only the feeling of his fingers inside of her and the sensation of his mouth on her. "Oh God," she whimpered, her arms turning to jelly. She twisted beneath his mouth, he did something with his fingers and then suddenly she was seeing stars.

Sitting back on his haunches, Arthur licked his lips slowly and watched her come back down. He smiled at the glazed look on her face, and she couldn't help but smile at him in return. Her worry was for nothing. "Good, huh?" he asked, pride in his voice.

"Get over here," she commanded, reaching out for him. "And you're still wearing clothes!" she cried, noting the pants. They didn't hide the bulge of his erection at all, and she licked her lips. She looked up at his amused face. "I've wanted to try something..."

"You did say you wanted everything," he reminded her in a teasing voice.

She scooted across the couch and fell to her knees in an ungainly plop. Arthur arched an eyebrow at her when she attacked his pants and pulled them down to his ankles. She got an eyeful of his erection, then before she could talk herself out of it, took him into her mouth. She had tried this all of once before, with the aforementioned ex-boyfriend, and he hadn't been terribly complimentary about that either. There was a reason he was an ex, after all.

Arthur made a sharp little hissing breath, and his fingers fluttered across the top of her head. She took that as a sign she was all right with what she was doing. She had one hand on his hip, the other curled around the base of his cock to keep it steady in her mouth. She ran her tongue all over the length of him, as far as she felt comfortable doing, smiling a little when she heard his satisfied little sigh. She wound up rocking back on her heels and looking up at him when her jaw ached, seeing the strain and desperation on his face. "Are you okay?" she asked, brows knit together.

"Depends... Are we stopping now?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"Well, sort of. My jaw hurt," she said, rubbing it a little.

Arthur laughed and hauled her up to her feet. "Keep that up, and I won't be inside you when I come," he said, moving in for another kiss. His tongue stroked hers, and he guided her toward his bedroom. They walked slowly, and she backed up steadily toward the room. She had her hands on his shoulders for balance, feeling wet and sticky between her thighs, he had one hand on her hip and the other at a breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

"Is this savoring?" she asked with a cheeky smile when the backs of her knees hit his bed.

He laughed. "Oh, I haven't even begun yet. But there's time for that, isn't there?" he asked, lips curling into a questioning smile.

"Yes," Ariadne told him without hesitation. She sat on the edge of the bed and Arthur leaned over her to kiss her again. "Yes," she murmured against his mouth. She fell back as he leaned forward, hovering over her.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Exhausted afterward, she lay sprawled on the queen sized bed beside Arthur, his arm curled up around her waist. Eames had simply pressed his weight into her, engulfing her, taking over all of her senses. Arthur seemed content to watch her settle in beside him, a content expression on his face.

"I don't know how you can think after that," she said, tapping his nose affectionately.

Arthur grinned. "I'll have you know, this takes practice."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," he replied, his smile making him look young and almost vulnerable.

"Is this what you hoped it would be?" she asked, reaching up to trace the curve of his jaw.

Arthur turned and kissed her palm. "We're getting there," he said, smiling against her spread fingers. "You're hard to read, Ariadne. I thought perhaps this might work, but I couldn't be sure. I didn't want to start anything that could put you in an awkward spot until I was sure."

"Eames jumped the gun, didn't he?"

Arthur snorted in response to her guess. "He does for most things, you'll find. He said I kept coming up with excuses why this wouldn't work. Maybe I was, I don't know." He kissed her palm again. "But he's good at reading people. He's good at making guesses and leaps beyond logic."

"So what are you planning?" Ariadne asked, brows knit in confusion.

"Can't you guess?" Arthur teased, leaning in for a kiss.

It wasn't that hard to puzzle out. The difficult part was figuring out why she wasn't opposed at all.

***  
***


	2. Reading Between The Lines

Somehow, Ariadne wasn't surprised to see Eames sprawled across her tiny bed in her Paris apartment. She was tired after the ride back from Arthur's apartment in London. He had given her the keys and security codes to his apartment, eyes tracking her face as he did so. "You're welcome any time, even if I'm not here," he had said, fingers sliding down the length of her arm. She'd been shocked by the amount of trust he had placed in her.

"Took you long enough," Eames snarked, tucking his folded hands behind his head. "I was tired of reading through your art books, Ariadne."

"You said you had things to do, and that's why you weren't staying in London."

"He bought that flat because of me, you know," Eames replied, which wasn't an answer at all. "Smacked of commitment, it did."

"Did you run, then?" she asked, going with the flow of the conversation. She was slowly learning that sometimes Eames worked in oblique lines and curves, not always answering the question you asked. Sometimes he was answering the questions you _didn't_ ask but really wanted to know.

"Oh, he'd never be so gauche as to say anything aloud, my darling girl." Eames smiled brightly at her. "But the signs are there. You do realize that, yes? I'm sure Arthur gave you a key to his humble abode. He wants you there, after all."

"And you?"

"I haven't a home to invite you to, unfortunately. Otherwise, I'd whisk you away there and amuse you deep into the twilight hours."

His speech was melodic and flowery, and Ariadne didn't trust it. "So what would you want to do?"

"Are you looking for long term?" Eames asked, eyebrow raised. Suddenly the teasing lilt was gone. "What do _you_ want?"

"Straight answers, maybe," she said, finally dropping her carry on bag to the floor. She should be looking for a job of some kind, whether for a design firm or for the dream share business. She should be doing any number of things other than wanting to strip Eames bare and see what she could do to him. She shouldn't have felt it like a fire in her blood, a need she couldn't control. Then again, she didn't want to control it.

"You left them in London," he replied.

"Arthur didn't seem to have them, either. He hinted, though. He hinted at plans and things like that, but it seemed more like he's waiting for me to make up my mind about it."

"And did you?"

Ariadne went to sit down on the edge of her bed. There wasn't much room there, so her thigh was pressed up against Eames'. She ignored the rushing beat of her traitorous heart and simply looked at Eames. "Can't you guess?"

Eames smiled, eyes crinkling. "Sly one, pet. Didn't expect you to start picking up on that."

"I don't get straight answers from you, do I?"

"No, perhaps not. Something to get used to, Ariadne." The bright smile slipped for a moment, and Ariadne had the vague sense that Eames felt empty behind the masks he wore. "We slip in and out of each others' lives. Arthur is one for stability. He's in it for the long term. He has _needs._ And me..." His voice trailed off and the mask slipped back into place. Ariadne didn't know if he realized she had seen past it already. "Well, now. So much to see, so little time. Too many names and faces and the like."

"Am I to keep Arthur occupied when you're not there? Is that it?"

Eames sat up and slid his large hand around the column of her throat. "You're not a replacement, darling. It's not that. You can't help but be who you are. You're genuine." _In a way I can never be_ hung between them unsaid.

"Have you ever tried?" she asked gently, closing her hand over his wrist.

He smiled, the superficially charming one that had fooled her at first. "Would you be able to tell if I had?"

"You're not trying now."

The smile slipped a fraction. "I don't have answers for you, Ariadne. I'm a shadow. He doesn't see that yet."

"Maybe he sees beyond that." She leaned closer. "Maybe I do, too."

"Oh, you're _dangerous,"_ Eames murmured just before she kissed him. "Arthur has no idea just how dangerous you can be. I can see that now."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, kissing the underside of his jaw. She could have this. She could have this one moment before it shattered.

"He thinks in large strokes. The big picture, the endgame. It's part of who he is, what makes him the best at what he does. I see the details, the start of things. The things that aren't said, what is spoken of only in gesture and touches and looks."

Eames sounded so serious, and Ariadne pulled back to look at him in concern. "That's what makes you so good at what _you_ do."

"I don't turn it off, Ariadne. Neither does he. He knows what he wants, and he has a plan for it. He arranges things, rather like chess."

"You wait for things to fall into place." It was a guess, one that made Eames laugh.

"Not always. Not always," he repeated, shaking his head. "You want more than I can give, darling. So does he."

"Maybe you don't give yourself enough credit."

"Maybe I have no illusions about myself," he countered. He stroked her shoulder. "I know what I can offer. No more, no less."

Ariadne shifted her position on the bed to straddle his legs. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she curled her fingers along the edge of his shirt. "And if I like what you're offering?"

The words were a challenge, and Eames grinned. "Is that enough for you? No turning back once it's done, you know," he murmured, sliding a hand along her back. "No unseeing what has been seen. No way to erase it from your mind."

"It's already started, Eames," she murmured, rolling her hips against his. "No sense in warning me away from this. My mind is made up."

"In for a penny and all that?" he guessed.

"Is there a reason why you're still talking?" she challenged.

Eames slid his hands beneath her shirt. His touch was so different from Arthur's; his hands were rough and he didn't treat her like porcelain. He didn't care if he popped buttons on her blouse taking it off, didn't care how loud she got. In fact, he encouraged her, whispering filthy things in her ears that made her rock harder against him and cry out when he moved just right. Everything about him was larger than life, over the top and excessive.

He sucked at her breast, making her gasp and cling to him. He was still dressed, and all she had was her top and bra off. She was aching for him, but he seemed to be content with teasing her and simply touching her. "What's this?" she gasped.

"You think Arthur's the only one that can savor you?" he asked, looking up at her with his mouth mere millimeters from her skin.

"Oh." She blinked at him. "You're not Arthur, though."

"No, I'm not." She couldn't tell, but he seemed to be almost mournful about that fact.

"Are you trying to do what you think he would?" she asked, voice gentle and a little breathy.

"Maybe," he said, tone flat but eyes almost suspicious.

"Why don't you show me what _you_ would do? What's just you and me, not with Arthur in the room when he's not really here."

"He doesn't tell you that you taste good," Eames growled, moving to press his lips against the skin between her breasts. "Or that he wants to fuck you so hard the neighbors can hear you screaming. Or that he wants to mark you, leave you gasping and know that he's the one that you want to do this."

She didn't say anything in response at first, gasping at the intensity of his gaze. "I want _you,_ Eames. Just you, right now."

It seemed to be just the thing he needed to hear. Eames pulled her down so that their mouths crashed together. It was as if he was trying to devour her, mark her lips and steal the breath from her lungs. He ran his hands along her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her flush against him. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling slightly, making him groan and gasp against her mouth. After a moment, she pushed her hand down along his chest and cupped him through his trousers, rubbing hard and making him buck against her hand. It was trapped between the two of them, and Ariadne wasn't too proud to keep from grinding against the back of her own hand.

Eames laughed and pushed her backward. She tumbled backward, and it was only his hand on her hip that kept her from falling to the floor. "You said something about too many clothes, yes?" he asked playfully.

Ariadne snickered and let him get his clothes off while she pulled her own off. She stroked his erection gently, giving him a challenging look. "Shall I?"

"Oh, do what you like," he said, making it sound careless. He watched her with hooded eyes, tension in his shoulders. She apparently wasn't conforming to any of his preconceived notions about her, and it was starting to unsettle him enough that she could see beneath his carefully constructed masks.

She was dangerous, indeed.

True to form, she dove right in and didn't give a second thought to what she was doing or how she would breathe. Eames let out a soft sigh, fingers skimming across the top of her head as she ran her tongue over him, her hands on his hips. Her jaw ached after a minute or two, and she tried to recover by pressing soft kisses along the length of his cock, then flicking her tongue out over the vein. He sighed again, quiet and pliant beneath her mouth. It was an odd feeling, knowing she was able to reduce him to this, that he trusted her this much.

It clicked then, what this was really about, what the relationship between him and Arthur must be like. Scattered moments of peace and security, no need to worry about the next threat coming. Physical release, maybe affection, and then it was off to the next forgotten corner of the world with an empty hotel room and another name on his passport. He was lonely, but this was all he knew, all he thought he could offer.

Ariadne nipped the skin covering his balls and looked up at Eames. He was watching her avidly, eyes sharp and glittering. "You like to play, Ariadne," he said, no waver at all in his voice.

"I'm learning," she said, smiling softly. She ran a fingertip along the moistened skin on the underside of his cock, watching his eyes dilate. She climbed up his body, making sure her body dragged along his cock at irregular intervals. The sensation was ticklish for her more than anything, but his lips parted in anticipation as she came closer. She smiled at him, scratching her nails along his chest. He seemed to like it rougher, with more skin contact and casual touches. She wondered if that helped him feel real, if it made him feel as though he mattered somehow. "Anything you care to teach me?" she asked, giving her lips a playful quirk.

He grasped her hips and positioned her over his cock. "Come down hard," he growled. "Hard and fast. That's what I want."

She was too tight for that to work, and Ariadne wriggled a little uncomfortably over him. "You don't fit," she complained.

Eames looked as though he was going to laugh or strangle her. "I've an idea," he said, winking at her. "Wait a mo'," he added, rolling her off of him. She watched as he crossed the room to his bag, which she hadn't noticed against her dresser. Somehow, she had always thought sex should be romantic or full of grand gestures. Awkward or funny or conversations hadn't really figured into her idea of things. He turned with a condom and a bottle of lube, grinning at her lofted eyebrow. "What? Never leave home without it."

Ariadne snickered and fell back against her bed. "That was awful, Eames."

"Probably. Definitely. Still very true, though," he said with a grin.

She felt like a voyeur as he rolled the condom on and poured the lube across his fingers. He worked his fingers into her, stretching her a bit, his gaze intent on her face as he gauged whether or not he was stretching her too far. "How did it work out okay the last time, then?"

"I played with you more first," he said decisively. "We skipped that part this time." He swiped his thumb across her clit, making her gasp and arch up. "There we are. Those are the fun sounds," Eames said, a filthy grin on his face. He coated the condom liberally with lube, making Ariadne wonder if it would wind up staining her sheets.

Any coherent thought flew from her mind at the feel of him pushing inside of her. She could feel every inch of him, and he hissed at how tight she was. Ariadne made little mewling noises as he moved. She nearly screeched when he pushed all the way in, making him freeze. "Don't stop," she gasped, reaching for him. "That felt good, that spot. Do it again." He relaxed and did just that, pulling almost all the way out before slamming home again. She writhed at the contact, grasping his arms tightly. "Yeah, that. That. Oh..."

There were faint squelching sounds that really should have been disgusting but only made her all the more aware of his body over hers, the sense of fullness inside her and the slight groans he made when she shifted her hips or tightened her inner muscles. It was as if her entire world had narrowed, until it was just the sensation of his body moving against hers.

It was over far too soon, and Ariadne made a discontented sound. Eames chuckled and pressed his fingers between their bodies to stroke her clit. "Too tight, sorry about that," he murmured into her ear. "It's been far too long since I've been inside you," he purred. "We'll get me running again soon enough."

It had been two weeks since the last time he had slept with her. This was the fourth time overall, and there was a pleased little hum of sensation in her chest at the thought that he wanted more of this. Maybe he had been afraid to hope for more, maybe he thought she would come to her senses and refuse him.

This was like dream share. The lure was too seductive, too much like forbidden creation. She was lost without much of a fight at all.

Ariadne ran her hands down his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath the skin, feeling her body tighten around his. She shimmied beneath him, hearing his hiss as she tightened further. "So close," she gasped, arching up. He sucked at her neck hard, his hand moving faster against her. She let out a groan as she twisted, pleasure washing over her in a rush. Eames slowed his strokes, his breathing ragged against her neck, then pulled his hand away.

She was sticky and sweaty and tired, sprawled across her bed as Eames moved away to dispose of the condom. He looked at her afterward, a half smile on his face. "What?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion. Her thoughts were still sluggish, circling more around the way her entire body felt light and heavy at the same time, the ghostly stretch between her legs a reminder of how far he had pushed her past her prior limits. The Ariadne she had been a year ago probably would be horrified at the thought of her in bed with two different men within a day of each other. She would probably also be horrified at the prospect of those same two men in her bed at the same time.

This Ariadne was looking forward to it, glorying in the fact that they both wanted her.

"There's a flush in your skin," he said, voice soft. "You look luminous."

Lips curling into a soft smile, Ariadne beckoned him closer. "Maybe you need a closer look."

There was a flash of surprise he couldn't quite hide, and it made her wonder if perhaps he had always run away before. The other three times, he hadn't been much for cuddling, but he had lingered a while. Maybe he didn't linger with Arthur. Maybe the press of time and the threat of discovery made him slip out of the door as soon as he could gather up his clothes. She didn't want to ask, didn't want to open doors she wouldn't be able to close.

Who said she never learned her lesson?

He carefully arranged himself on her narrow bed, her back pressed to his front. His arms and legs covered hers, and she should have felt swallowed up by his larger body. If anything, she felt protected, just as she had with Arthur. She knew they wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't allow any harm to come to her if they could help it. Each showed their affection in different ways, and she was learning to read the signs as well as she could read the lines in structures. Ariadne linked her hand through Eames', drawing it up to her chest. "You didn't get a hotel room, did you?" she asked softly.

"Did you want me to?" he asked carefully.

Oh, Eames, she wanted to say. But it would sound condescending, and he always grew testy with even the smallest hint of that. "You can stay with me," she said instead, running her thumb along his. "It's not a huge space, obviously, but I think there are perks to being here."

He laughed, a delighted and warm sound close to her ear. "Oh, I can think of quite a few perks, yes."

"Plus, you make a great blanket," she teased.

He pulled her even closer, so that the hairs on his body tickled her skin. "And you're a good pillow. All those curves." He nuzzled her temple, and it was such a heartfelt gesture that her heart sang in anticipation of the future. "I'll stay," he murmured, nipping at the shell of her ear.

Ariadne grinned, tightening her grip on him. "As well you should," she told him. He squeezed her in return, and she had to believe this was what he wanted as well.

***

Ariadne answered her phone without checking who was on the other line. "Is Eames there with you?" Arthur asked after she did her usual greeting.

"Yeah. He's underfoot somewhere," she said, whisking a few eggs in a bowl. "My place isn't exactly large enough for him to be hiding. Why?"

"Tell him that Gervais knows where he is. He'll know what it means."

She put the bowl down carefully. "Arthur. What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot," he admitted after a moment. His words were less sharp now, though concern was still etched into every syllable. "I don't know if there's time to explain it all. Just tell him to run, and we'll figure everything out afterward."

"Am I safe?" she asked quietly.

"For the moment," Arthur replied, voice softening. "I'm making sure it stays that way, Ariadne. You've got to trust me."

"I do," she replied instantly. "I just needed to know if I had to pack, too."

He chuckled softly. "You've got one sure hiding place, no questions asked."

"I know. Thank you for that, by the way." She cocked her head to the side, hearing the water shut off in her bathroom. Eames would be out soon, so she should finish getting breakfast ready. "Are you doing okay, then? Are you safe?"

"Yes. Don't worry about me. I just have security measures in place to make sure I can track certain people."

"The ones you care about?" Ariadne guessed.

"All the ones worth keeping safe," Arthur answered, a bit more vaguely than she was used to. "The ones I care about, I make sure I keep in personal contact." His voice had dropped into a slightly lower register, and Ariadne could feel a low burn in her belly, even though Eames had woken her up in a most delicious way.

Her breath caught and Ariadne was sure that Arthur was smiling on the other end of the line. He was working on something for a job, and it was the only reason she had returned home. He had promised to help her set up things, which she assumed meant identities and bank accounts and safe places to run if she was going to stay in dream share. "It's not fair that you're so far away," she said quietly. "Not with things just starting."

"I'll make it up to you," he promised, and she could hear the smile in his words now.

"I'm counting on it," she returned with a smile, greasing the pan for the omelet she was making. "Did you want to talk to Eames?"

There was a slight pause, and it made her wonder on what terms they parted last. She remembered the biting remarks back and forth during the planning stages of the Fischer job, and the gleeful look on Eames' face every time Arthur fell to test the kick. It was easier between them during the job itself, and there had been slight smiles between all of the players at baggage claim. They were familiar with each other, and Ariadne was starting to wonder what her role was supposed to be between them. Was she supposed to keep Arthur company while Eames was off doing whatever it was he did? Was she supposed to make Eames want to stay?

And what did she really want out of this, anyway?

"Does he want to talk to me?" he asked finally.

Ariadne poured the batter into the pan. "Let me find out," she said, starting to walk over to her bedroom. He had toweled off already, tossing it aside to rummage in his bag for clothes. He was gloriously naked, and she couldn't help but run a hand down his back and then along the curve of his ass. "It's Arthur," she began, and Eames' playful expression shuttered closed. "Gervais knows where you are," she said, holding the phone out to him. "Maybe you should find out the details."

"Yeah. Good idea, that," he replied, taking her phone. The look on her face told her that perhaps he didn't really think so, but he was going to humor her.

Good enough. Trying to puzzle out their relationship was going to give her a headache.

She went back to the kitchen and focused on the eggs and toast. It was easy enough to tune out everything else, to push away the misgivings she was starting to have. Everything sounded like a good idea with the haze of sex, after all. But once the afterglow wore off, she had time to think again.

"You're feeding me," Eames said in a delighted tone, coming up behind her. He put her phone on the counter, and stooped down slightly. He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his embrace a bit. "I can't stay long after all."

"Is this about the job you just did?"

"Something entirely different, unfortunately," he murmured, nibbling at her earlobe. "I simply don't want to be found right now, and he knows I'm in Paris."

"Arthur said I wasn't in danger."

"No, you're not. It has nothing to do with dream share. No whispers about you, yet. I know I've been careful about that, and I'm sure Arthur has been, too."

Ariadne turned inside the circle of his arms, wondering if she should say something or not. Her curiosity won out. "Are you and Arthur doing okay? You're... testy, I guess. I thought... Well, it seemed friendlier than that when I saw you in London."

Eames' expression cleared, but she wondered if it was simply another mask falling into place. "Nothing to worry about."

"The two of you were together first..."

"Not exclusively so. No emotional ties," he said, shrugging. "It's a good fuck when we need it. It's all right, Ariadne. I meant it. Nothing to worry about."

The careless tone seemed forced, and she wondered if he was trying to convince himself of that. "And this Gervais..."

He smiled. "Do you care, Ariadne? Not just for the shagging, but really care?"

His tone was playful now, and she could feel a flush rise along her cheeks. "Maybe more than I should. It's why I wanted you to stay."

Eames let his fingertips ghost down her spine, and he leaned down to touch his head to hers. "I'm dangerous in a much different way than you, darling. I hope you don't come to regret this."

"I won't," she said softly, tilting her head to kiss his lips.

She hoped she wasn't lying to him. She had the feeling that his entire life was built on lies, and that was the last thing she wanted to be for him.

***  
***


	3. Strength Of Conviction

It felt like a waste of time, like everything was slipping out of her hands. She read up on architecture journals, the books she meant to catch up on, the idle errands she had left waiting far too long. It felt as though she had to catch up on everything, but there was nothing but time in front of Ariadne, nothing but time and an indeterminable wait. She should have been putting out applications, walking into firms to see if she could join as a junior partner. Professor Miles felt she was his most gifted student, and he had a glowing recommendation sitting in her file, just waiting to be used.

But designing for the real world felt like failure, like hopes dying and ash on the sidewalk.

Ariadne looked at the extra key on her key ring. Mere weeks since she had first seen Eames in her hallway, and everything had turned upside down and inside out. There was this lost, knotted thing between the three of them. It was easy in pairs, she supposed. Eames sometimes slipped and forgot which mask he was supposed to wear, and when she had last seen him, she thought perhaps she had seen all the way inside of him. Arthur had his professional armor, but he was definitely there all the time. She didn't have to second guess her emotions around him. She was safe with him, as safe as she could be with a man whose name she wasn't entirely sure was real. Eames, she knew, carried dozens of names, a different skill set for each one, and he was seemingly comfortable that way. Arthur categorized and pigeon-holed, filed and organized. That was the shield that few people saw behind, and she wondered what had led to its creation.

Either way, she wanted to knock them both down and reconstruct them, turn them from forbidding cathedrals into flying arches. She wanted to carry them deep inside of her, then set them free with a flick of her hands.

It was surreal and entirely self-indulgent. She probably should have thinking about how to get back to her extended family, deciding if she should stay in Paris or move elsewhere in the world. She was an orphan, and that made her an appealing prospect for worldwide corporations. There was nothing tying her down to any particular place. She could be anywhere and nowhere, could join any firm in an instant.

Perhaps that was the lure of dream share. She could be all that and more, and it didn't have to stay the same way forever. She was only as solid as a dream, and even then she could be washed clean and start over again as someone new.

This was being fanciful, and it wasn't like her at all.

Paris didn't feel grounding anymore. Possibly because folding the world in half in a dream had shifted her perspective, possibly because _she_ was so very changed now. It was still home, more so than the place she had grown up in. Perhaps it was time to move on.

She looked at the extra key on her key ring.

London was a beautiful, old city. Its architecture was strong, its history deep and tormented. There were places to go, to be, to see, to become again.

Just to be certain, Ariadne tipped over her bishop.

She booked the ticket to London.

***

Her feet knew the way even if she wasn't sure she really belonged. They had something going without her, after all. Maybe it wasn't quite what either of them wanted, but it worked. It had lasted for years. Arthur was more of the stabilizing force, the anchor that kept others grounded. Cobb had leaned on him for so long, and perhaps others as well. He knew what he was, what he did, what he wanted. He held his plans and his hopes, close to his chest but available if anyone wanted to see. He had homes in five different countries with five different aliases, everything set so that he didn't have to do anything in particular to keep them running. He had the details down enough to get the big picture of his plan, and he could knock out the supports for the details that didn't fit.

The building was solid, the stones full of character that Ariadne appreciated. It was a prewar building, with all the details that made her smile. She would have loved to have designed like this, but that wasn't what people wanted anymore. Sleek and modern, impersonal and cold. The hotel level she had built for Arthur was less a reflection of his personal style than the function of what they needed to do. She had put in details for him, though. She hadn't been able to help it, and there had been quiet appreciation in his eyes. He wasn't the cold, impersonal robot that Eames had teased him about being. There was more to him, if only someone was willing to see it.

What little she knew of Eames told her that he knew. He saw everything, cataloging it for later use or misuse. He knew exactly what Arthur couldn't ask for but wanted, and didn't think he was capable of giving it. Arthur wanted stability; being on the run with Cobb must have been hell. Eames lived in controlled chaos, shifting between shadows and masks and half told truths. He observed but didn't interact until he wanted to disturb the system, and even then half of the time he wanted to leave before seeing it through. He thought he was broken, that he was incapable of anything more than superficiality.

Ariadne was young. She knew that. She was observant and was used to being on her own, thinking too much. She was used to pushing past what she _should_ do, impetuously rushing forward if she thought she had a good idea. That didn't make her right, and it didn't mean she didn't fall flat on her face. It did make her wonder what they saw in her, if it was all about the missing pieces they didn't have in each other. She was pretty enough, she supposed, especially if she actually bothered to do something about hair or makeup or clothes. She could be beautiful if she tried, if there was someone worth trying for. That wasn't it, though. She knew that much. If it was all about the pretty face, there were dozens of women out there that would be easier to draw into their little world. Perhaps one of their contacts could have fit in seamlessly.

Their touches told her that they needed her, but she couldn't make sense of why.

Ariadne punched in the code and went up to Arthur's apartment. She wanted a place to think that wasn't her own, something new. Arthur didn't even have to be there. He had been working on something when she had shown up before, books and papers scattered all over the dinette table. Eames had simply announced that they were crossing the Channel, then they were at Arthur's apartment. He had known Arthur would give her a key, had known she would accept it. He had known there was something smoldering between the two of them, that Arthur wouldn't have acted upon it until he was sure of her.

Eames wouldn't accept thanks for that, though. He was too busy dancing around the subject of feelings and endearments. He was too busy pretending nothing mattered to him.

She slipped into the apartment, feeling like a thief. This wasn't her home, not in any way that counted. This wasn't Arthur's home either, not really. It was only one of the places he stayed in the world, though, maybe one of the ones he liked best. Eames implied that Arthur had bought it for the two of them, but it was an apartment that catered exclusively to Arthur's tastes. Ariadne had the feeling that Arthur would have gladly put in things for Eames to feel comfortable, but the forger didn't want the implication that he was coming back. He didn't want ties anywhere.

Her fingers danced along the spines of the books on the shelves as she wandered through the apartment, touching the movies and music and framed photos on the wall. Evidence of Arthur's life and soul outside of a business that could get very dangerous, very quickly. Ariadne wasn't sure if she really knew what was going on beneath the surface, or if everything she thought she knew was a lie.

She didn't know either of them very well, after all. How much did you know about someone after a few months? How vital did they become to your well-being?

The bedroom door was open a crack, and she could hear noises on the other side of it. She had no business investigating further, which of course meant she headed straight there.

Eames was naked on the bed, on his hands and knees, wrists tied to Arthur's headboard. Ariadne remembered the feel of it clutched in her hands, the smooth hardwood slats resisting the pull as she strained against it and tugged hard when she came. He had his face down in one of the pillows, groans smothered. Arthur was naked as well, hands on Eames' hips and licking and sucking at Eames' perineum. There were bite marks on the inside of Eames' thigh and a bruise along the outside of his hip. She had only given him some of them, and assumed Arthur gave him the others. Arthur slowly moved his tongue in languid circles, making Eames strain against the bonds at his wrists. He circled up and back, tracing the outline of his hole with careful precision.

There were no words between them. Arthur took his time as Eames groaned and strained, hands keeping Eames' hips still. He licked the curve of skin where buttock met thigh, lips soft before the teeth came down hard. He moved his left hand to where a tube of lube had been tossed carelessly aside, and he liberally coated his fingers with it. Eames hissed at the contact, and only Arthur's left hand on his hip kept him from pushing back as Arthur slipped one slim finger inside of him.

Ariadne didn't know what Arthur's expression looked like; his back was to her. His gaze was usually intense though, especially when he was fixed on what he was doing. One finger slid in, in slow and steady rhythm, then two. Eames had the pillow caught between his bound hands, and he shuddered as Arthur slowly increased the pace. There were still no words exchanged between them, nothing to let Ariadne know if this was what they liked, if this was anything like a relationship or just Arthur's attention to detail turned to fucking him senseless. She had never felt as though she was a job when she had been with Arthur, but her connection with him was different.

Arthur slipped a third finger in, and Eames started shaking. He made a desperate kind of noise deep in his throat, and Arthur withdrew all of his fingers. More lube, this time around his sheathed cock. Then Arthur slammed into Eames without warning, setting a punishing pace. Eames pushed back, muffling his grunts with the pillow. Arthur reached down, the angle a little awkward as he caught Eames' cock in his slippery fist. He squeezed hard, fingertips stroking the skin as he moved. It was just enough to make Eames cry out and come, spurting across Arthur's hand and coverlet.

Eames made a soft whimpering noise as Arthur continued, his own breath coming in fractured, ragged gasps. The muscles in his shoulders and back tightened, and he made a choking sound in his throat as he arched and gave a final, erratic thrust. Arthur let out a ragged breath, then slid his palm across Eames' spine. "Better now?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. His hand moved across Eames's back, and he hadn't yet moved away from him.

"Yeah," Eames managed to say, voice raw.

There was silence between them, and Ariadne couldn't tell if it was tense or companionable. They'd clearly done this often enough before that they didn't need to talk about it, didn't need to discuss what it meant.

Arthur moved his hands first, then withdrew from Eames' backside slowly. The other man still made a low hissing noise, not quite protest. He caught Ariadne out of the corner of his eye and turned fully toward her. His expression carried a hint of vulnerability in it, then he turned back toward the bed to untie Eames. "Hey," he said softly, running his left hand through the hairs at the nape of Eames' neck. "This isn't time to fall asleep."

"Why not?" Eames asked, sounding almost sullen. _"I'll_ be in the wet spot..." His voice trailed off when he looked up with a mock glare at Arthur. He caught Ariadne standing in the doorway, cheeks flushed and lips parted. "Oh. Of course. C'mere, Ariadne," he said with a smile. "You're good to cuddle with."

She blinked, not sure if she should really be there. "Oh." Neither man seemed particularly surprised or perturbed that she had been watching them, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. "Um..." She moved aside when Arthur moved past her to wash up in the bathroom, but she was still standing there hesitating in the doorway.

"Don't tell me you're shy?" Eames teased, stretching out slowly and turning to face her.

"Um..."

Arthur returned and took her elbow in hand to guide her toward the bed. "Hey," he said, voice just as soft with concern as it had been with Eames. "You all right?"

"Are you really okay that I'm here?" she blurted. "I can go if you don't need me here. I mean, you're busy. Were busy. I'm not... I'm extra," she said, aware that she must have sounded like an idiot. Because really, what did they need her for? They had _something_ between the two of them. There might be something between her and each of the two men, but that didn't automatically make things permanent. Even the thing between _them_ wasn't permanent.

Arthur cupped her face in one hand and looked her in the eye. "You're not extra."

They were close enough that Eames reached out and grasped her leg. "Come to bed, Ariadne."

"But..."

Eames kicked off the coverlet. "There. All clean now."

Arthur glowered at Eames. "That's not cleaning up, asshole."

"Bite me. Oh, wait. You did," he replied cheekily, not repentant in the least. He tugged Ariadne down and tucked her against his chest. Arthur climbed in next to her, and he kissed her cheek. She was caught between them, clothed while they were naked, and feeling all the while as if she was superfluous and unnecessary.

Eames slid an arm along hers. "Stop thinking, Ariadne. Just go with it."

She felt out of her depth in a way she hadn't felt before. Maybe because she hadn't seen how much they truly cared for each other. It hadn't felt real enough before, and she hadn't felt like such an intruder. She felt pulled under their spell, however. Eames had his hands on her arm and hip, and Arthur was kissing her slowly, one hand on the angle of her jaw. It was as intense a kiss as he had ever given her, no apparent difference. She wondered why she wasn't grossed out at the concept of kissing him, even if she could taste toothpaste along his teeth and tongue, when his mouth had been elsewhere along Eames' body. Then again, her own mouth had been all over parts of _both_ of them. If they weren't squeamish, there was no point in her feeling that way.

Eames' large hands slid across her hips, until they reached the front of her jeans. He undid the button one-handed, then dragged the zipper down with a loud rasp. Arthur was licking at the inside of her mouth, one hand on the side of her neck. He was using his other arm to prop himself up, and the fingers of that hand stroked her breast through her clothing. It was too easy to do as Eames said, to grasp hold of Arthur's shoulder and simply kiss him back with reckless abandon, forgetting how to even breathe. Eames slid his hand inside the waistband of her panties, and she shivered when his fingers brushed across the wild curls hidden there.

"Stay with us," Arthur murmured into her ear, running his tongue along the outer curl of cartilage.

"We want you here," Eames rasped, biting at her shoulder through her shirt.

Their touches were slow and maddening. She wanted more, with a desperation that took her breath away. It hadn't ever been like this for her before, like a fire in her blood or a thirst she couldn't slake. "Why?" she managed to gasp out, her earlobe caught between Arthur's teeth.

"We like you," Eames said, sliding his hand a little further inside her clothing. "We really, really like you."

"I'm starting to feel a little... extra."

"No, not extra. Essential."

Arthur said the words, but Eames was the one that shifted to slip his fingers inside her and make her gasp. There would be no words of undying devotion from him, she knew. Ariadne shifted her leg over his, giving him a little better access. Arthur was sliding his hand from her neck to pull up the edge of her shirt, exposing her stomach and the underside of her bra. Eyes closed as she kissed him, she just followed the gentle press of his hands. She wound up on her back between the two men, hips tilted slightly. Eames worked her slowly, his touch more gentle than it had been the last time they were together. He sucked at her neck as Arthur slid his fingers beneath the edge of her bra to tease a nipple, his mouth still on hers.

Time lost meaning as they teased her body, bringing her to the brink and then slowing down. Ariadne lifted her arms to help get her shirt and bra off. Arthur closed his lips around her nipple, flicking it with his tongue as Eames finally let her come. She let out a strangled moan, fingers of one hand digging into Arthur's shoulder and the other pulling at the sheet beneath them. Eames dragged her jeans down just far enough that they were caught around her ankles, and he closed his mouth over her sex. She whimpered and writhed beneath his mouth, fingers flexing on Arthur's shoulder. Eames clamped his hands down over her hips, thumbs spreading her folds wide. Tongue sliding into her, Eames focused on her the way he did for a job. Arthur moved up to take her mouth with his again, drowning out her cries.

She watched them kiss after she came again, Arthur slowly licking the taste of her out of Eames' mouth. His hand was cradling Eames' jaw in a tender kind of gesture, his other hand sliding restlessly over her chest. They were both aroused again, cocks rubbing against each other, and Ariadne wondered what was going to happen next. They wanted her there, and Arthur even called her essential. It didn't stop her from feeling like a third wheel, though, as if she just happened to be a living, breathing sex toy to play with.

Arthur let his hand run down from her chest to her stomach, the touch feather light and ticklish. He turned to look at her, grinning when she squeaked and shifted away from his touch. His eyes crinkled in the corners, dimples starting to show. He pulled the jeans down from her ankles and knelt beside her. Eames was behind him, broad shoulders wide as he dropped his chin onto Arthur's shoulder. "Are you uncomfortable with this, Ariadne?" Arthur asked, letting his fingers trail lightly across her ribcage. She got the feeling he meant more than the ticklish touch, given the smoldering look in his eyes.

"I'm still trying to decide that," she said. She was naked like they were now, legs splayed wide. She was wet and sticky and not quite satisfied even though she had already come, and they were both half erect and kneeling on the bed beside her.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Why don't you convince me?" Ariadne asked, letting her mouth stretch into a smile.

Arthur laughed, a delighted and amused kind of sound. It made her insides flutter to hear, and she resisted the urge to touch herself. He reached over her for the bedside table, grabbing the box of condoms there. She took the foil packet out of his hands and was the one to roll it on him. He made a soft sighing sound at her touch, grinning when she impulsively dropped a kiss onto his stomach. He slid into her slick heat, hands propping himself up on either side of her head. Arthur pushed her legs back, so that her thighs were pressed up against her breasts, her knees were bent and hips tilted up. His downward strokes were deep, hitting a spot all the way inside that made her gasp. "Like that?" he asked, and it was all she could do to nod in reply.

"Tell us," Eames said, kneeling behind Arthur. There was the snick of the lube bottle being opened and a slight stutter in Arthur's rhythm a moment later. "Tell us what you're feeling, Ariadne," he murmured, eyes glittering and fever bright. "I need to hear it."

She almost wanted to gasp out _Why does it matter?_ but that would have taken more conscious thought than she was capable of. She grasped hold of the backs of Arthur's legs, pulling him tighter into her. It seemed to be enough to moan, to say "Right there, please, right there, more, harder, Arthur, that feels so good," and Eames' expression was almost frightening in its intensity. Arthur arched back as he pushed into her, as Eames undoubtedly was working on him. She could imagine Eames' fingers pushing into Arthur the way his slim ones had pushed into Eames, and she let out a soft whimper at the visual.

Ariadne's grip faltered when she came, breath fracturing and release setting her limbs loose. The aftershocks rolled through her, tightening around Arthur. His hips stuttered, and Ariadne saw Eames roll on a condom himself. He pushed into Arthur then, a hand on Arthur's hip and the other reaching around him to touch Ariadne. Eames bit down on Arthur's shoulder, his eyes locked to hers. Arthur came with a grunt, his weight falling more heavily onto his hands. Eames was pumping wildly into him, pushing him into her, making her gasp at the sensation. Arthur was making helpless, desperate noises, his eyes screwed shut and lips pulled back almost with a grimace.

He collapsed onto Arthur when he finished, shifting his face so that his forehead touched his shoulder. Eames' breathing was ragged, and he didn't say anything for a long time.

"Get off of me so I can pull out," Arthur said finally, turning his head to look behind him. "Besides, you're heavy."

"Such pretty things you say in that post-coital haze, Arthur," Eames mocked. He did as Arthur requested, however, and both men briefly disappeared into the bathroom to clean up, leaving Ariadne sprawled and debauched on Arthur's bed.

She sat up with difficulty and looked around the bedroom. It was a complete mess, and Ariadne wondered what she was even doing there. Arthur returned first and sat beside her. He simply pulled her close to him, tucking an arm around her shoulders. "It's going to be all right, Ariadne," he murmured softly, kissing her temple.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, turning to look at him with a vulnerable expression.

"Because we all want it to. That's the only way it'll work."

***

"I think it helps him feel real," Arthur said suddenly.

There hadn't been much more conversation after the three of them had been in bed together, and Eames had slipped away the next day as he had always intended to. Ariadne had been staring at the door for a while after he left, not even really thinking. Her mind was a blank, her body satisfied as it hasn't been before this whole thing had started. She looked over at Arthur in surprise, startled by the emptiness of her thoughts. "What?"

He gave her a sad smile and stood up from where he had been reading. "Let's go out," he said, putting the file aside. "Let me show you the neighborhood."

It was nearly dinnertime, but they took a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood first. "It started a few years ago," Arthur said quietly, his hand linked with Ariadne's. "There was a job that went south, and we were in hiding in Rio drinking way too much. It kind of just happened, we didn't talk about anything and afterward we went our separate ways." His words were slow and carefully measured; Ariadne wondered how long he had spent crafting this tale in his head before he told it to her. "I didn't hear from him for months, then he'd ask if he could stay with me for a few days while hiding. Sometimes there wasn't anything more to it than that. It was like that for a while."

Ariadne looked up when he paused. "When did it change?"

"It hasn't, really," Arthur said, looking back at her. "But I think it helps him feel real."

"You mean the rough sex?" she asked, brows furrowed in thought.

Arthur nodded. "I've always wondered if that's what brings him back to who he is, once he's been too many different people for too long." He looked across the street from where they were standing. "Come on, I like that place over there."

They were seated and ordering dinner before Ariadne really paused to ponder Arthur's words. "Why do you say I'm essential?"

"I'm not enough for him," Arthur said evenly, sipping the wine he'd ordered. He didn't seem to respond to her start of surprise. "He doesn't see _me_ half the time, so the most I can do is occupy his body." He put down his glass. "And even aside from that, _I_ want you in my life." He grasped her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. "I want to be there as you make your mark on the dream world. I want to watch you build amazing things, get to know you, be part of the life you make." His gaze was intense, and Ariadne thought of Eames' comment about the London apartment. _Smacked of commitment._

Ariadne saw what he couldn't say, what would hurt him to admit. She turned her hand in his, so that his thumb rubbed at the creases of her palm. He traced the curve of her life line, and she looked at the branching lines there with a ghostly ache in her chest. "Can you love two people at once?" she asked quietly, finally looking up. "We're so very different."

His smile had a pained edge, and she felt almost sorry for asking. "I've been doing it for a long time now," he said finally, thumb still restlessly stroking her palm.

"He sees you, you know," Ariadne told him quietly. "He's terrified of it."

"Is he?" Arthur said, sadness in his tone. "I suppose he would be."

"He doesn't think he can do permanent," she continued, ache in her chest widening. She had no idea if she was helping things along or if she was making it worse. "The sex might make him feel real, but he doesn't think he can do any better than that."

"You care about him, then," Arthur said quietly, thumb falling still on her palm.

She clutched his hand tightly, enough to mash the knuckles together. Arthur didn't so much as flinch. "About you both," she whispered fiercely. "Maybe more than I should."

"Why?" he asked, voice carefully neutral.

"I don't know if I can do this. I'm going to come between you, and I don't think I can balance things out. I can break things and I can build things, but I don't know if I can do this. My track record with relationships _sucks,_ Arthur. I don't want to hurt either of you."

He brought her hand up to his lips slowly, deliberately. He kissed her knuckles, eyes never leaving her face. "There's nothing to break. He has all he wants from me. He's always had it, and there's never been more than that."

"You want it to be."

"It doesn't matter what I want in this case," Arthur said tiredly. He pressed his lips against her hand again. "Love isn't always the answer, Ariadne. Too many people have fallen apart because of it." Neither of them mentioned Cobb and Mal. "If he doesn't want it, that's all right with me."

"You still love him."

"So do you, don't you?" he asked quietly, bringing his other hand up to cover hers. Looking at their twined hands, Ariadne nodded wordlessly. "I love you, too," he said, eyes boring into hers. She nearly shivered under the intense gaze. "I know it's not enough in this line of work. It's not enough to keep you safe, not enough make you stay with me. I can live with that if I have to."

 _Why are you content with so little?_ she wanted to ask him. But it was clear, wasn't it? Love might not have been enough, but it made people do crazy things sometimes.

"I love you," Ariadne whispered. She could see the twinge of relief in his eyes. "It's why I don't want to hurt you with this. So much can go wrong."

"It can work. We all want it to." There was that stubborn thread in his voice, the part of him that simply planned things and researched and put everything together into a bigger picture.

That night, he threaded his hands in her hair and kissed her deeply, backing her up against the wall leading to his bedroom. She was pinned to it, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around him. He would keep her from falling, and he moved his hands to her ass to keep her from sliding down. All he did was kiss her, tongue in her mouth and lips pressed against hers. He took his time with it, desperation and longing and love inherent in the kiss. It took her breath away, giving her a possessive kind of feeling. She would hurt anyone that hurt him, would do anything to keep him safe.

They didn't even have sex. Down to their underwear, they simply touched each other and kissed, falling asleep tangled in each others' arms. Ariadne breathed in the scent of him as she woke, his arm thrown over her ribs and body sprawled across the wide bed. She kept her eyes closed, feeling warm and content with Arthur. It was a different kind of feeling with him, she realized. Eames wanted intense, rapid swings in emotion. He could hide in the hollows and simply react to it, but Arthur was a steadier sort. He planned, wanted safety and a measure of known entities in his future. His line of work was too dangerous not to have some sort of stability beneath it.

If Ariadne thought of Arthur as her rock, she realized that she was his, too. She grounded him, met him in reality and was able to dream with him. Eames must have known that, and probably pushed them together faster than they would have gotten together otherwise. Arthur needed a foundation to build from, and Ariadne knew how to do that.

Eames was the tricky one. Superficially he seemed more emotionally approachable, but he was guarding himself against them both. They each gave him something different; Arthur pushed his physical limits and challenged him mentally, but would never ask for more emotionally. Ariadne challenged everything without demanding clear answers while she made him feel special. It still left the core of him untouched.

"I like this," Arthur murmured, sliding his arm along hers. She opened her eyes and turned to look at his vulnerable expression. "Mornings," he clarified without her asking what he was referring to. "Waking up with someone."

It was trust, and not something easily given. Ariadne reached up to stroke his cheek, feeling the rough edge of stubble beneath her palm. She smiled at him, watching him smile at her in return. "It always seems like the day could be anything, then," she said slowly, not sure where she was going with this. "Like anything can happen."

Arthur moved to kiss her, slow and undemanding. Ariadne was the one that deepened the kiss, that rolled over so that she straddled his waist. She had her hands in his hair, tugging gently at it, scratching at his scalp lightly. His hands were at her back, stroking her skin before unhooking her bra. Ariadne shrugged out of the straps and tossed it aside. Arthur traced the angry red marks where the strap had pulled too tight into her shoulders, watching as she shivered. He let his fingertips brush the slope of her breast, and her breath caught. Ariadne bent down to kiss him again, rubbing herself against him. It was a tangle of tongue and teeth and lips, everything they couldn't quite say in words.

She rolled the condom over him and impaled herself on him. She leaned slightly backward as she rocked with a steady rhythm, clutching his thighs tightly. Arthur's hands roamed across her stomach and chest, then up to her breasts. She said nonsense things, fractured phrases that told him how much she loved the feel of him inside her, how much she needed him, that this was wonderful and _right there._ Arthur tilted his hips up on her downstroke, pushing deeper into her. He groaned when she tightened, collapsing beneath her. Ariadne made a soft mewling noise of disappointment, making him laugh a little. "Time enough for that, right?" he gasped out. He laughed more when she pulled a discontented face at him. "I meant the shower," he said, pinching her nipple lightly. "I can always make up for it there."

"I like how you think," Ariadne said with a smile, easing herself off of him with a little difficulty. "Because I'm still not anywhere close."

Their shower together was nearly two hours long.

***  
***


	4. Resonance

Downtime with Arthur was interesting. Ariadne had felt a little awkward with Eames invading her apartment and discussing the art books in her home or what he felt was her dubious taste in impressionist art. He seemed to like the noise of the street below, flinging open her windows and disrupting the clutter of her tiny space. Arthur liked hearing what she had to say, discussing philosophy or architecture with her. He went with her to art museums and didn't laugh at how much she liked the impressionists; he quietly pointed out his favorite Renoir and Sisley paintings. Sitting in the park with him as she sketched was comfortable; he brought his laptop and did some of his research right there.

"Is it a difficult job coming up?" she asked, putting the finishing touches on a tree. There was a particular angle in the branches that she liked and would probably find an excuse to put into a dream. Nature was difficult to plan for, but it often helped really bring out the feeling of a location.

"I'm not sure if I want to take it. I'd need to build a team." He looked across the expanse of park, eyes unfocused. "I know you'd volunteer to be the architect."

"I'd be insulted if you didn't ask," Ariadne replied, giving his arm a playful bump.

He turned and smiled at her. "There's that. It might need a forger."

"How big a team would you need?"

"Maybe just the three of us, if I do the extraction as well as take point."

"The three of us working together," Ariadne echoed. "Would you be okay with that?" Given how unsettled their personal lives were, she wasn't sure how it would all fall out.

"Of course I would," Arthur replied with a frown. "Why wouldn't I be?"

 _I can't turn it off like you can,_ she wanted to say. Ariadne shrugged instead. "Just checking."

"It will work," Arthur said, conviction in his tone. "It's possible, so it has to work."

 _Where are you?_ she texted Eames that night, after Arthur had fallen asleep. She had woken up disoriented and had tipped over her bishop to confirm reality, then felt stupid for needing the reminder.

She didn't have to wait long for a reply. _Out and about. Miss me, pet? ;)_

Smothering the urge to roll her eyes at his text, Ariadne replied. _I suppose this means you're safe?_

Well and hidden, new name and all messages forwarded here. A second text followed on the heels of that one. _are YOU safe?_

Ariadne smiled; perhaps there was more going on than Eames was willing to admit. _Yes. Missing you._

 _Insatiable. Is Arthur's prowess not enough for you?_

Was that supposed to be jealousy? Or Eames putting her on the defensive? Ariadne couldn't tell. _We both miss you._

There was a delay after this text, and Ariadne wondered what Eames was thinking in response to it. She could imagine his dismissive hand wave, saying "Can't miss what you don't know, Ariadne. Don't be silly." She was about to get up and go back to bed with Arthur when another text came in.

 _It's tiresome being alone, isn't it?_

She sat back down in the living room, staring at the short message. _Yes,_ she decided to reply. The hell with hiding anymore. _But with three of us together, we're not alone anymore. We're something more than each of us are apart._

It was a full minute before his reply came back. _Can you both meet me in Manila?_

Ariadne stared at her phone for a moment. _What are you doing there?_

 _Looking at a job that's definitely Arthur's style. He might be looking into it already._

"Oh, Eames," she murmured softly, seeing that reply. "Just tell him," she said, shaking her head. _He's looking into a lead from Cai._

 _That's the one :)_ Eames texted back.

 _Then I'm sure we'll see you soon,_ Ariadne texted.

 _Don't come as you are. Cai's in a tough spot. Arthur will know what it means._

"Of course he would," Ariadne said with a sigh. They both spoke the half language that came from an extended relationship with someone they knew well. It was like a code, and every time she thought she was coming close to cracking it, she was thrown for a loop. _Will do. Going back to bed now. See you soon!_

She didn't expect a text back, but there was one right as she put her phone down.

 _Kisses for you both._

She slipped back under the covers with Arthur, feeling a tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with anticipation. She curled into his warmth and pressed kisses against his cheeks. Arthur made a soft snuffling noises in his sleep and pulled the blankets up higher, covering her head completely. Ariadne smiled and shifted position so that she was tucked tightly against him, her back to his chest. She pulled his arm close, and his grip instinctively tightened around her.

It was easy to fall back asleep.

***

Manila had a skyline that was a mixture of modern skyscrapers and older buildings. Despite the blonde wig on Ariadne's head and the extremely sloppy way Arthur was dressed, Eames had no trouble spotting them. He picked them up from the airport and brought them to Sampaloc, the residential part of the fourth district in Manila. To Ariadne's surprise, the apartment he was renting boasted a riot of flowers. "Fresh from the Dangwa flower market," Eames said with a shrug, catching her pleased surprise. "It's open twenty four hours a day, you know. I thought you might like it."

"I do, thank you." She leaned down to take a flower from a vase with one hand and reached up to take the wig off of her head with the other.

"Don't," Eames murmured, looking her over. "It's an interesting look for you."

"I think I'm too pale to be a blonde," Ariadne complained.

Arthur had changed from the grungy look as soon as he arrived in Eames' apartment. He was dressed more like a businessman, in a black suit, blue shirt and dark tie with little maroon polka dots. Eames looked at him questioningly. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Weren't we going to meet Cai today?" he asked. "If he's in enough trouble from the locals, then it's best to get the details worked out and the payments arranged before we even start the research."

"I thought you'd want to settle in a bit first. It's a long flight from London," Eames replied. He looked indifferent as he gestured to the overstuffed easy chairs in front of the fireplace of the sitting room. "Tomorrow morning is soon enough."

Arthur caught sight of the pack of cigarettes lying discarded on the coffee table. "Taking up more bad habits?" he asked archly.

"I know every single one. There are some things I'm better at than you, after all," Eames replied, moving to stand behind Ariadne as Arthur sat down heavily in the chair. He grinned at Arthur's dubious look. "Go on, light up, then." He put his arms around Ariadne, bending his knees so that they were the same height. "Do you think he will?"

"Why should it matter?" she asked, confused. There was a challenge between them, something she was missing. He had asked Arthur to come to Manila. He had missed him. Why couldn't he just say the damn words?

Eames nuzzled her neck, watching Arthur light a cigarette in response to the challenge. Arthur took a slow drag from the cigarette, holding onto the smoke before exhaling slowly. He watched them with hooded eyes, smoke obscuring his face and rendering it unreadable.

Ariadne felt like she was a pawn in some kind of complicated game of chess between the two men. Eames nuzzled her, hands roaming across her stomach and breasts, his eyes locked on Arthur's all the while. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"It's been a while since I've seen you. In hiding and all that."

"It's been a while since you've seen either of us. Why am I the only one you're touching?" she asked, arms at her sides. She itched to touch him, to run her palm against the stubble of his jaw. She wanted to see the dark blond strands of hair fall between her fingers when she tugged on it, wanted to see his eyes light up in pleasure when she looked at him.

"Ask Arthur."

"I'm asking you."

"No answers here, darling," he murmured, kissing the curve of her shoulder. He had her breasts cupped in his hands, fingers moving restlessly to stroke her nipples through the layers of fabric. Even so, Eames' eyes were on Arthur, waiting for his reaction.

Ariadne wrenched herself away from him, even though her breathing was shallow and he knew how to make her weak in the knees. She ripped the blonde wig from her head and looked at him, a vulnerable expression on her face. "I won't be the one to say what you can't, Eames. Have the balls to say it yourself, or just stop teasing us both."

Eames grew very still, face frozen into a mask as he looked at the bright spots of color on her pale cheeks. He looked over at Arthur, who was calmly stubbing out the cigarette. Arthur didn't say a word, wasn't even looking at him, but Eames and Ariadne both were aware of the tension that had set into his shoulders. "You don't understand what you're asking," Eames said finally. His eyes were on Arthur as he slowly looked up at him, expression carefully blank. Eames looked away first, catching Ariadne's eye. "This works, just like this."

 _"This_ is nothing but us fucking each other and pretending we know what we're doing," Ariadne said, running her hand through her hair. The waves were flattened and tangled in spots; she had worn that stifling wig for far too long. "You can text it if we're in another country but you can't say it to our faces?"

Turning away, Eames' shoulders were somewhat hunched and curled in on himself. "You don't know what you're asking." He was repeating himself, and as far as Ariadne knew that meant he didn't know what else to say. He obviously hadn't expected her to go on the offensive with this.

"It's tiresome being alone, isn't it?" she asked, quoting his text back at her. Arthur was very still in the chair, watching them both intently. He would never push, she knew. He was content with the way things were. Or at least he was willing enough to take what he was given and not rock the boat.

Ariadne was never very good at being patient.

She didn't like the silence, and she strode forward and pulled at Eames' arm, intending to turn him. "Dammit, Eames..."

His expression was bleak, and she had the feeling it wasn't a mask. It wasn't a game, wasn't a come on. Arthur drew in a breath at the sight of him. "You are playing a very dangerous game, Ariadne," Eames said, closing one large hand over hers. This time, his voice was less defensive and he sounded almost lost. "Don't push. I know you can't help yourself sometimes, but please, don't push."

The please undid her, and she closed her lips against what she would have said next. "Is it so hard to say it?" she asked instead, voice gentle. Her heart was beating a trip-hammer rhythm in her chest, and she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around him and rock him. What he needed and what he wanted were two entirely different things.

"Yes, goddammit," Eames snarled, pulling away from her.

Arthur rose from the chair and stood beside Eames. He didn't say anything, merely held a hand against Eames' back. Eames startled at the touch, swiveling his eyes to look at Arthur's placid face. "She needs words, Eames. She won't settle for anything less." Implied was the fact that he had done just that for far too long.

"They're just words," he said, sounding flippant. He shrugged and moved to step away from Arthur, and was startled when the point man grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a passionate kiss. "Arthur..."

"Clarity would be helpful sometimes," Arthur told him, gaze boring into his. "Innuendo doesn't go far enough."

"It goes plenty far enough," Eames protested.

"No, goddammit," Arthur growled. "You keep fucking running away."

Eames started to pull away, but Ariadne was right behind him. She slid a hand beneath his shirt, tracing the edge of his spine. "You missed us," she said softly. She ran her nails along his spine lightly and knew that his eyes would dilate in response. "We missed you, too, you know. It's better when we're all together, isn't it?" He tried to gently disengage himself from the two of them, but Arthur kept hold of his shirt and Ariadne grasped the back of his trousers. "We're not going anywhere, Eames," she said, voice firm. "We're not leaving you."

"You're making a mistake," he said, looking at her with that bleak expression. "You can't mean this."

"You won't let me," she corrected.

"You won't let either of us," Arthur said in careful tones. He was leaning in, and his mouth met Eames' when the forger turned his head. "Have I ever judged you for the fucked up shit you always pull?"

"Of course you do," Eames snarked, sarcastic mask falling into place. "All the time, Arthur. It's what you do."

Arthur glared at Eames. "You've always had a place to stay, no questions asked. You've always had my help when you wanted it."

"Whatever it is can't be that bad," Ariadne cut in, watching the two men fall into a glaring match.

Eames wrenched himself away from them both. "What you see is what you get, Ariadne. There's nothing else here. You're waiting for a fairy tale that will never happen."

"A fairy tale?" Ariadne scoffed. "What? You think I'm Little Red Riding Hood and you're the big, bad wolf?" she asked, coming close to him. "I happen to like having the wolf in my bed, then. I happen to like having you in my life. That's what I'm asking." She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to eye level, surprised he let her do it. "Just say you missed us, Eames. Just say you want this to happen, that it's not something I'm imagining."

Something shifted in his gaze, something dark and uncomfortable to see. "I missed you both," he said finally, words wrenched from him. He closed his hands over hers and gently peeled her fingers away from his rumpled shirt. "I _needed_ you both."

It was likely the only admission they were likely to get, but it was so much more than Arthur had ever had before. "That's all I wanted," Ariadne lied, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Liar," Eames said around her mouth, but he kissed her back with fervor and then lifted her up off the ground. She squeaked in protest and clung to him, afraid of falling.

Ready to fall, he had asked. She wondered if _he_ had been ready to fall as well.

Arthur came up behind Ariadne, settling his hands on her hips for further balance. She could feel the press of his face against her shoulder, and his breathing was ragged. "Eames," he said, a hoarse, pleading edge to his voice. Ariadne had never heard it before.

"Bedroom's behind us," Eames murmured. "Stay. Please."

"Of course, you idiot," Arthur said, reaching around Ariadne to smack Eames. "Why else would we fly halfway around the world in response to a vague text from you?"

"The job," he said, sounding a little uncertain. "Isn't it always about that?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Arthur ground out.

Ariadne took Eames' face in her hands, trusting that the two men would help her keep her balance. "It doesn't matter about the job. We'd be here anyway. We're not leaving you."

Somehow they stumbled into the bedroom, Ariadne still perched between them. She was kissing Eames' jaw and neck, and looked up at him expectantly when he helped her down to her feet. Ariadne attacked his clothes as Arthur leaned in to kiss his mouth, Eames' face caught between his hands to keep him from moving away. Between the two of them, they maneuvered Eames onto the bed. Ariadne knelt next to him and kissed her way down his chest. She took him into her mouth as Arthur kissed his mouth hungrily. Eames let his hand skim across the back of Ariadne's thigh. He tugged at the fabric of her pants impatiently, unable to complain verbally.

Chuckling, Ariadne pulled back and stripped off her clothing. Arthur had only removed his suit jacket, leaving him still in his button down shirt, tie and slacks. He moved back to kiss Eames, hand curling around his jaw. Ariadne went back to kissing Eames' stomach, nipping at his thighs and studiously avoiding his cock. Her hair brushed across it, adding a soft and gentle stroke against the sensitive skin. His fingers coasted across her skin, stroking her folds and curls before dipping inside. Ariadne took Eames into her mouth and ran her tongue along the length of him, nearly smiling when she heard him moan into Arthur's mouth. She sucked a little harder, and he turned his left hand to grip Arthur's shoulder.

Eames moved his fingers faster along Ariadne's clit, making her whimper. Arthur broke his kiss to rifle through the bedside table, and returned with the lube. He poured some over his fingers and moved to the other side of the bed. As Eames worked his fingers inside of Ariadne, Arthur started to work one into Eames. He moved slowly and methodically, leaning forward to press kisses onto Ariadne's shoulder. She made a soft humming noise, moving occasionally to nuzzle Eames' balls with her lips or kiss his thigh. Ariadne turned her head and kissed Arthur's wrist, a slow sensual smile on her face as she turned back to look at Eames. He had his eyes screwed shut, one hand between her thighs and one hand clenched in the pillow beneath his head. Eames kept his strokes even on her clit, keeping track of her gasps.

Ariadne whimpered and shimmied against him, body tightening around nothing. "I'm close," she whispered, pressing her face against Eames' chest. She tongued his flat nipple, her left hand curled around the base of his cock while her right kept her balance. "God, please, right there..."

"I didn't think I was God, darling," Eames drawled a little breathlessly, "but I'll take the compliment."

Arthur curled his finger quickly, making Eames groan and hitch his hips upward. "Play nice, Mr. Eames," Arthur said in even tones. His eyes were dark as he took in the slope of Ariadne's back, her trembling thighs and the scent of her arousal. His own erection was tenting the front of his trousers, but he could draw this out.

Ariadne scratched at Eames' chest as she came with a strangled moan, his fingers still moving in the same steady rhythm. She shifted her balance with difficulty, feeling as though her own leg was too awkward and heavy to move. She straddled Eames' waist and let Arthur hand her a foil packet. She rolled the condom on slowly, Eames' eyes on her face the entire time. Guiding him into her, Ariadne sank down slowly over him. She reached out and drew his hands up to her breasts, then let her own drop down to his hips. Rocking slowly, Ariadne met Eames' gaze steadily. She could feel Arthur behind her, his mouth on her shoulder and left hand snaking around to rest over her stomach. His right hand was between Eames' spread legs, moving in a slow and steady rhythm as Ariadne rode Eames.

Eames lifted his hips with Arthur's strokes, trying to make it coincide with Ariadne's downstroke. He grit his teeth around the pleasure, trying to keep from coming just yet. Ariadne was slick and tight, her hands pulling at his hips to keep him sliding in deep. There was a flush in her cheeks that went all the way down her chest, and he pinched her nipples lightly. She made a soft mewling sound, her head lolling back to rest on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's other hand slid down her stomach, fingertips brushing against her clit.

Arthur pulled his finger out of Eames' ass as Ariadne tightened. He could feel the shudders in her pick up speed, and he knew she was close. He teased the edge of her rear, sliding his finger into her up to the first joint. She made a soft strangled sound, turning her face toward his jaw. "More?" he asked her, fingertip flicking at her clit in even strokes. She was close, hovering over the edge of orgasm as she nodded, so he slid his finger in to the knuckle. "We're going slow, Ariadne," he murmured, feeling her tense up even more.

She came, entire body tight and shaking in his arms. Eames let out a groan, hands still on her breasts. "Fuck, Ariadne," he groaned. "That's amazing..."

Arthur urged her to continue to rock against him. "He hasn't come yet," he murmured into her ear. "Keep going."

His soft, low voice sent shivers through her. She nodded, trying to pick up the same pace she had before. She closed her eyes and simply focused on the feel of Eames inside her, his hands on her breasts and fingers pulling at her nipples. Her down strokes meant she was also pushing against Arthur, letting him slide his finger deeper into her. It was an intrusion, but not exactly an unpleasant one, and his other fingers at her clit distracted her from it. Ariadne leaned back against Arthur as she grasped Eames' thighs, feeling the fabric of his shirt against her bare skin. Her breathy moans and gasps filled her ears, and she could feel the press of Arthur against her when he shifted position slightly so that he could nip at her earlobe. "Are you going to fuck me at the same time?" she managed to say, clenching her inner muscles tight around Eames. That made him grit out "Oh bloody _fuck,"_ with feeling, his hands tightening around her breasts.

"He won't last much longer," Arthur chuckled, curling his finger inside her. "Maybe next time," he added when she gasped.

Eames shifted his grip from Ariadne's breasts to her hips, pushing her to move faster and harder over him. Arthur withdrew his hands, and Ariadne's eyes flew open. She leaned forward, her hands on Eames' shoulders, making him groan at the change in sensation. There was an almost vulnerable expression in his eyes as he looked at her, his mouth falling open slightly as she stared down at him. "Shit, I can't... Can't hold on," he managed to groan.

"Then don't," Ariadne managed to say between fractured breaths. He bit his lip and his eyes slid shut as he made a final erratic thrust into her, chin ducking down against his chest.

Arthur climbed up onto the bed behind Ariadne and urged her to remain on all fours over Eames. He pulled her hips up, and slid his own sheathed cock into her. Ariadne whimpered and bit her lip, fingers tightening on Eames' shoulders. Arthur's hand ran along the small of her back, his other firm at her hip to keep her balanced. Eames watched Ariadne's face intently, even though her eyes were closed tight. He moved his right hand to touch her chest, and she leaned into his touch. Though he wasn't inside her, they were still connected, and Eames looked up toward Arthur. His eyes were wide open, watching them as he thrust into Ariadne. Eames leaned up to kiss Ariadne, eyes still locked to Arthur's. She responded enthusiastically, and he turned his eyes toward her face. Vision blurring, he let his own eyes fall shut as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

Ariadne shook as she came again, tightening around Arthur. He let out a soft grunt and started to move faster, his thrusts harder and deeper inside her. Ariadne let out a soft wail of pleasure that was swallowed up inside of Eames' mouth. Arthur closed his own eyes and let go, drowning in the sensation of Ariadne.

They were a mess as they lay on the bed, sprawled in a tangle of sticky limbs. Ariadne's torso was over Eames', her legs were trapped beneath Arthur. Arthur threw an arm around the other two and pressed his lips against Ariadne's shoulder.

It was Eames who spoke first, when Arthur was half asleep and Ariadne thought Eames would never acknowledge what had happened. "Why are you here, Ariadne?" he asked softly. That bleak, vulnerable expression was on his face, as if he couldn't understand what had just happened.

"I love you, Eames," she murmured. She shifted position to perch herself up on one elbow, looking down at his concerned face. "Just like Arthur loves you. Just like you love us."

"This was his plan all along," Eames said, eyes searching her face.

Ariadne smiled and cupped his jaw in one hand. "Don't you know by now? He has good plans. You should trust in them more."

Eames lifted a hand to her face. "Why do you?"

She turned and pressed her lips against his palm. "I love you both," she murmured, knowing it as a vital truth. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his rough palm. "This will all work out if we want it to, and I want it to."

When she opened her eyes, he had a faint smile on his face. "I've always said you were dangerous, Ariadne. You never think anything's impossible, and you upset everything."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Arthur murmured sleepily, opening his eyes a crack. His lips curled into a smile as he took in their positions. "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames. We'll be here when you wake up. We _want_ to be here."

There was too much that was still left unsaid, but that was enough for the moment. Tangled together, they slept.

***

The meeting with Cai was straightforward and simple compared to the tension humming beneath the surface. Cai was an older man of Chinese descent, with a smattering of gray in his glossy black hair. He had run afoul of a Hong Kong triad due to an incomplete job and was hiding in Manila. He wanted the three of them to help him retrieve any information that they could from a ranking triad member. Cai planned to use it to broker a deal in exchange for his life, and was willing to pay handsomely for that. It looked like it was on the tip of Arthur's tongue to say no, though he was tempted by the challenge of it. The extraction itself wasn't the difficult part, but the real world logistics. Eames drummed his fingers on the table, looking for all the world as if he was bored.

"Let me see if this is even possible," Arthur said finally. "They don't know where you are, and they don't know we've been called. There's nothing in any network I can find on you, so you have time." His gaze swept over Eames and Ariadne. "If this is going to happen, we all need to be safe, not just you."

"You have always been exceedingly fair," Cai agreed. "It's why I contacted you. If this can't be done, you would tell me."

Ariadne felt as if she was missing something, but kept her mouth shut. Arthur left first, leaving her to leave with Eames. The blonde wig itched, but Eames had been adamant that she shouldn't leave his apartment without it. "What's happening?" she asked as they walked along the boulevard.

"I've worked with Cai before. Not a bad bloke, but he plays a lot _exceedingly_ close to the vest."

"Coming from you, that's saying something."

"Well, we all have our faults," Eames replied. It was an idle tone, but Ariadne didn't think the words were. He was startled when she leaned into him, upsetting his stride. "What?"

 _I want you to tell me why you think I'll run,_ she almost said, but knew that wouldn't get her anywhere. _I want you tell me why you can't say you love us_ wouldn't go over very well, either. She smiled up at him instead. "Let's surprise Arthur with something for lunch," she said, holding his arm against her chest.

"He was the one that thought this would work out, you know."

"You just gave it all a push."

"Someone needed to," he agreed solemnly.

Ariadne stood still for a moment, which forced Eames to stop as well. "Are you regretting that?" she asked quietly.

"No," Eames said solemnly. He let his fingers run across the angle of her jaw. "Definitely not."

 _Then what's the problem?_ she nearly asked. She let her fingers skate across the inside of his wrist, remembering his commentary on Arthur's London apartment. _Smacked of commitment._ The words kept circling her mind, and she wondered if that was what bothered him. Did he think they would trap him into something he didn't want? "Then stop thinking long term," she said after a moment. "We're not going anywhere."

"That's long term thinking," he pointed out.

"Only if you want it to be," she said softly, looking up at him evenly. "Did Arthur ever pressure you to stay?"

Eames frowned at her, trying to find fault with her logic. "Ariadne..."

"No pressure to choose, no pressure to stay. It is what it is. We're not going anywhere, Eames. We're not going to leave you."

Perhaps it was what he needed to hear. His eyes searched her face, finding the sincerity there. "Arthur likes afritada, paella and lumpia," he said finally. "Let's get a collection of things."

Grinning at him, Ariadne let him lead the way.

***

"I spoke with Keivan," Eames said that night after dinner. Arthur was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, dressed only in boxer briefs. Ariadne was in a long T shirt, her hair tied back. She had been turning back the covers on the bed, which was king sized and had more than enough room for the three of them. "I asked about Cai."

Arthur was silent for a moment, then rinsed out his mouth. "And?"

"There hasn't been any word from triads about him."

"There wouldn't be, even if he was telling the truth," Arthur replied, turning around to face him.

"You want to take the job, then," Eames said, looking at Arthur.

"Is there a reason you don't?" he challenged. The three of them had walked around the city at intervals that afternoon, and there had been plenty of opportunity to mention this development. Instead, Eames had waited until they were nearly in bed.

There was a slight sideways glance toward the bedroom, then his eyes shifted back to Arthur. "Perhaps not," he said after a moment. "But without a specific objective, it would make this tremendously difficult for no particular reason."

"I thought you liked difficult," Arthur replied.

"Depends on the kind of difficult," Eames answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's the challenge of things, the sport of it. But this is something that can go south far too quickly if you don't have an objective. Even forging another member to start a discussion would be rife with risk."

"Should I find another forger?" Arthur asked quietly.

Neither noticed Ariadne standing there, watching them with large eyes.

"You trust your life in anyone else's hands?" Eames asked, a measure of anger in his tone.

"Do you want to do the job or not?"

"Not if this is what happens," Ariadne said, interrupting what Eames was about to say. She pushed past them both and shut the door to the bathroom.

Arthur looked at Eames evenly. "We're going to steal secrets from a triad member. We've done something like this before, and there wasn't any problem then. What did Keivan actually say, then? What's the problem _now?"_

"Cai can't be trusted. He's making a move, and he's using us to do it."

"Why is this a problem? Why should we walk away from it?" Arthur insisted.

"I won't see your throat slit over it," Eames ground out through grit teeth. He spun on his heel but Arthur reached out and grasped his arm in a viselike grip. "Let go of me, Arthur."

"What did Keivan say about Cai?" Arthur asked tightly. "Why can't he be trusted?"

"It's who else he knows," Eames said finally, shaking off Arthur's arm. "Most of them wind up dead soon after something big like this. He covers his tracks with dead bodies."

Arthur nodded sharply. "Then we walk away."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I can't do this without a team I can trust."

Something shifted in Eames' gaze, but he simply nodded and headed to the bedroom. "You wanted to take this job," Eames remarked as he got into bed.

Ariadne left the bathroom as Arthur shrugged and answered "We don't need to."

"Everything settled?" she asked, coming into the bedroom. She stood there a little uncertainly; it was one thing to simply collapse into a heap when exhausted from sex, but another to crawl in simply to sleep. Where was her spot going to be?

Arthur gestured for Ariadne to sleep beside Eames, and he settled in on her other side. "I think it is. Isn't it, Eames?"

He let out a long, slow exhale. "Yeah. Yes, it is."

Ariadne kissed each of them on the lips, soft and slow. She stayed awake for a while, listening to the sound of their steady breathing on either side of her. Their hands were touching each others' over her stomach, each of them holding onto her tightly. It was hard not to feel as though she was the bridge between them, as if they would fall apart without her. It was hard not to feel as if she was being used, even if she wasn't.

Ariadne shut her eyes and pushed aside her misgivings about this. She did love them both and was selfish enough not to want to choose between them. This wasn't anything like previous relationships she had before, but if her day job wasn't ordinary, why should her love life be? Neither man wanted her to feel excluded, and both were trying their best to make her feel necessary. It was her own fears keeping her back. Arthur was right. Love wasn't enough to make someone stay, but it was enough to make someone want to against all odds.

***

"I need to head back to Paris."

They had been a week in Manila at that point, and Cai had graciously accepted the fact that they wouldn't be working with him. He had accepted the referrals Arthur had made without complaint; Eames afterward had remarked that none of the referrals were as good as Arthur. "Goes without saying," Arthur had responded with a shrug. "But most of them wouldn't know about Cai's track record. The money will make them skip the background checks."

Arthur nodded now in response to Ariadne's casual statement over lunch. Eames blinked slowly, and she almost watched a mask slide down over his features. "Really."

"I haven't been there in what? Three weeks? Mail is piling up. I need to pay the bills."

"I set up automatic bill payments for your rent and utilities," Arthur told her. He sipped his water, a placid expression on his face.

Ariadne looked at him in surprise. "You did?"

"Of course. As soon as you told me you didn't book a return flight from London."

Eames snickered at her stunned expression. "He's all about the details, darling. Just wait, he'll do your taxes, too."

"Someone needs to," Arthur said with a shrug. "It's part of creating a reasonable background for the legitimate identities."

She grinned at them both. "So everything's taken care of." Arthur nodded and tucked into his paella. "So we really don't have to go anywhere."

"Not unless you want to," Eames murmured, looking at her.

"Or for a job," Arthur added.

"I've always wanted to see the world," Ariadne told them, grin still fixed on her face. "Where should we go next?"

"I know someone in Melbourne," Eames said slowly, looking at the two of them. His expression was still masklike, the syllables were careful as they left his mouth. "He's almost like family, has a big house to stay in. It would be safe to go there. No ties to dream share, gangs, mafia, nothing. Just a house in the suburbs and no strings attached for you."

Ariadne grasped his hand tightly and gave it a squeeze. "Sounds wonderful."

"We can go whenever you want," Arthur added. He looked at Eames through his eyelashes, taking in the careful expression. "Your call. It's always been your call."

"I suppose it has," Eames replied, leaning back in his chair. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, staring at Arthur's neutral features. "I haven't always treated you kindly."

"You probably have reasons," Arthur replied evenly.

"It might happen again, you know," Eames continued conversationally. Arthur nodded, not surprised. "I don't plan to, but it might. Just so you know."

"Neither of us are particularly easy people to get along with," Arthur told him. "I haven't held it against you yet."

Eames suddenly grinned at him. "True." He looked over at Ariadne. "Still want to travel the world with me?"

"With the both of you," Ariadne replied with a nod. She smiled in response to his grin and saw Arthur's lips quirk up in a smile. "And frankly, you're both a mess without me. I guess you're stuck with me," she said in a light tone of voice.

"I can think of worse things," Eames said softly, his hand falling onto her arm.

"We're all exactly where we should be," Arthur said, leaning back in his chair far enough for the front two legs to leave the floor. He smiled at the others, his dimples showing. "So... Any plans for tonight?"

Eames nudged Arthur's chair with his foot, making Arthur lose balance and lean forward to avoid falling. As he fell forward, he rolled his eyes at Eames. The forger grinned at Arthur. "Not a one."

"Still sounds good to me," Ariadne said with a smile. She nudged Eames' knee with her own. "Plenty of things to do without definite plans."

He grinned suddenly, no tension in his shoulders or expression. The tension from the past several days seemed to bleed out of him. "Yeah. Good of you both to come here."

"I'm glad you invited us," Ariadne murmured as Arthur nodded at him.

The End


End file.
